Justice
by SeeInBlackAndWhite
Summary: M/M Male Hawke X Anders, Male Hawke X Fenris. Life is stressful as it is for a burgeoning hero - for Hawke balancing romance, action, and the lurking possibility of addiction makes saving the world so much harder. DA:II somewhere between the second and third acts.


Author's Note: This is verging on hilarious. I haven't posted a fanfiction in some...seven years. I even started writing this one a few years ago. Since the last time I posted here I've moved several times, gotten real adult jobs, and now I'm married. So this morning, my wife and I decided to drag out the ole xbox 360 and play some beloved Dragon Age, and I remembered this story kicking around my documents. Picked it up, dusted it off, and decided to post it here to maybe give myself some motivation to write on it more. Please enjoy this strange blast from the past and let me know if there's any desire to push on.

Vaguely through his mindless fog Hawke saw blue, a vibrant glow haloed Anders' head and pulsed from his eyes. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind he thought maybe he should stop it; he knew the light was a tell-tale sign that Anders was losing control, but he couldn't seem to make that thought take over. His body was too enthralled and his mind had taken a back-seat, Anders' body never stopped moving, driving him closer to the end.

As the pleasure intensified so did the light, casting its hue over everything and suddenly Anders' hand snaked behind his head. Usually healing fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, snapping Hawke's head back and drawing his spine into a desperate arch. He cried out, grasping at the sheets beneath himself until he heard something tear.

Anders' hand remained caught in his hair, tugging as each thrust threatened to push him over the edge. A low, harsh noise, not quite human, escaped from his lover's throat and his other hand caught Hawke's hip to pull him harder to meet each movement. The liquid heat of magic engulfed them and though he could feel it, Hawke was too far gone to care what it was for. He reached out to Anders, clawing at his chest and shoulders like an animal, each exhale louder and more frantic than the last until that moment when everything seized. His body tightened, his mind blanked and every inch of him gave itself to a brilliant crescendo.

He couldn't remember later how loud he had been, but at least was glad to know Anders had retained the presence of mind to throw a sound barrier around them to prevent future embarrassment. As selfish as it was, he only hazily recalled Anders completing either, he was much too caught up in his own finish.

His body fell limply to the sweat-soaked sheets and he dimly considered reaching for magic to fix their mess but gave up on the idea quickly. Moving was almost too much, let alone drawing on the arcane. The feeling was so different from Fenris. After Fenris he felt strong, powerful and very much alive. Here, he felt drained; very good, but still drained. Even at the moment the thought of his elf wrenched at his gut and Hawke knew he couldn't think of Fenris, not now.

Anders had dropped on top of him but after a few moments he shifted a little, as though testing his ability to move, then rolled to the side so he lay on his back beside Hawke. The cobalt glow had faded from his skin and only a hint of it lingered behind his usually amber eyes. His chest still rose and fell rapidly but Hawke could tell he was already trying to get that back under control as well.

There was some amount of tension in the air as they both tried to wrap their heads around what had just happened. Hawke's mind was beginning to clear and was now trying to truly drive home how strange that had really been. With so little blood flow to his brain he had cared very little, but now he wasn't so sure. Justice both was and wasn't really Anders and there was no point in denying anymore that Justice was a demon -whatever he had been to begin with.

A couple of very long minutes passed where the only sound in the room was their combined breathing. Being his usual self, Hawke couldn't let the silence continue for much longer and started in tactlessly: "Did I just fuck Justice?"

Anders tensed beside him and was quiet just a beat too long to be natural. "Yes. Being here with you, doing...I...lost control. I haven't," he paused, seeming to gather himself, "that's never happened before."

"I imagine not," Hawke blurted, apparently unable to keep his mouth from speaking.

"I'm sorry." Anders sat abruptly, drawing attention to the welts Hawke had drawn across his back, whom couldn't help but feel a frisson of carnal satisfaction as the sight. "I should go."

For a moment Hawke sincerely considered letting him leave. He wasn't angry but he was confused and, honestly, a bit disturbed by the situation. He put that aside, however. He knew there would be time later to work through the moral and ethical intricacies of the situation. For the time being he was tired and exceptionally physically sated, the bed was warm and he thought his body might crave touch again before morning.

"No," he said, reaching to lay a hand on Anders' back, "we can work it out later." When the healer turned slightly to look at him he offered a smile that he wasn't certain was entirely genuine but felt like the thing to do.

"Are you sure?" Anders asked, the question probably had a hint of honesty in it but it was clear he knew the answer as he settled back into the plush bed.

"I'm always sure," Hawke answered flippantly, receiving a small chuckle in response.

They lay there a while longer, this time the quiet less pressing, almost comfortable. Eventually Hawke's exhaustion grabbed hold and the world ebbed away as the fade took over, drawing him as faithfully as ever into the world of dreamers.

The next morning he awoke to an empty bed, the sheets on Anders' side were a rumpled mess but there was no other sign that he had been there at all. Hawke had reached for him but was not overly surprised to find nothing there, after last night he wasn't so sure it was a bad thing either.

Hawke blinked, scuffing his forearm over his eyes to rid them of sleep. The room was near pitch dark, the lack of windows was the only small complaint he ever made of his manor room. He pushed himself up from the bed, feeling the effects from the night before. Having always been very active and something of a danger magnet he was used to aches and soreness in the morning, but this in particular was not a throb he'd felt often. Hawke groaned as he stretched, torquing an old pain that had never quite healed from the fateful day years before escaping Ferelden when he had taken an ogre to the back.

Once he had finished stretching, Hawke held out a hand and drew in just a hint of magic. A small, bright light sprung from his palm and he bent forward blowing out gently, the light scattered to the candle sconces on his walls bringing the room into soft focus. As was coming to be instinct Hawke reached for his bedside table, becoming slightly concerned when his hand met nothing. He would have sworn that the last place he had left his lyrium flask was that table.

Frowning, Hawke stood, looking around the room to see if he had left it somewhere else. He still saw no sign of the metal topped bottle on the other surfaces in his room and he felt his brow furrow further as he grabbed up his robes and pulled them on quickly.

Any onlooker would probably have realized just how strange his behavior was, and just how obvious his addiction had become, but Hawke thought nothing of it as he strode briskly from his room, still attempting to buckle his clothing. He made his way down the stairs and through the parlor, heading directly for his stash. Bodahn was already up, as usual, and greeted him cheerily.

"Good morning, Master Hawke!"

Hawke's response was barely a grunt, usually he would have recognized how unseemly his actions were but at that moment he didn't care. He crouched in front of his potions station and pulled out the chest that was stored beneath. With urgency he opened the top and began rifling through the contents. He found himself getting much more frustrated than was really necessary when he couldn't find what he was looking for.

It became apparent that he was more than a little out of it when he realized that he had forgotten to get into the secondary portion of the chest, and when he did, the lyrium was right there. With a sigh of relief he snatched up a bottle and tore the cork out with his teeth before taking a long pull of the elixir.

Instantly he felt better, the world came into cleared focus and his blood, which had oddly begun to rush to his ears, settled back to where it belonged. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a deep, soothing breath. As his mind started to clear he felt himself becoming angry. He knew this problem plagued him, especially since...well, since Fenris had gone. Anders had warned him, Varric had tried to keep an eye on him, and Fenris had left him. They had all known before he did and even now he was weak, powerless to end its hold on him.

The bottle in his hand felt suddenly very heavy, binding like his very own leash. Holding it felt wrong, he couldn't stand being that person. The anger rose like bile to the back of his throat and before he quite knew what he was doing he hurled the container across the room. The glass smashed against the wall, sending small shards flying and the viscous blue liquid clung to the stone like a mold. He stared blankly for a long moment at his handiwork in silence before Bodahn's startled voice came from behind him.

"M-master Hawke? Is something the matter?"

"I...no." Yes. Obviously. But he didn't want to snap at Bodahn, he had done nothing wrong. Hawke glanced around and felt some relief when he saw that Sandal wasn't up yet, he had no intention of scaring the innocent dwarf. Hawke stood quickly, sweeping his haphazardly adorned robes up with him. "I'm sorry. I'll be back later," he said without ever making eye contact as he tried rather hard to walk to the door at a normal pace.

-0-

Hawke didn't truly know what he was doing. He didn't know how Anders could help him, and even if he could Hawke wasn't truly certain that he wanted help. It didn't matter, though, he still stood in the entryway to Anders' clinic, waiting for him to finish with a patient.

His lover stood over a young woman making sweeping gestures with both hands, mumbling something under his breath. Hawke recognized the spell, it wasn't one of the more difficult ones he performed though it did require extreme concentration and Hawke dared not to break it. So he waited quietly as the minutes passed, watching Anders live up to his name of healer.

A short while later the blonde made a very definitive motion with his left hand and the soft glow of the spell faded like a fog in heavy wind. The young girl opened her eyes blearily but smiled when she saw Anders still over her. He gave her a small smile in return and offered his hand to help her up. As she accepted he spoke softly to her, probably noting future preventative techniques.

It was nice to see Anders in his element, calm for the moment and relatively unconcerned with his more pressing issues. It made Hawke feel quite guilty that almost the entirety of his purpose was to intrude and parade his problems about. It was almost a shame he didn't know where else to go; his and Aveline's relationship wasn't usually so personal, Varric he knew would help him but maker damn himself he couldn't risk losing Varric's respect, and talking to Fenris was bound to just make things worse.

Anders had finished with his patient and she gave Hawke a shy smile as she walked past him and out into Darktown. The healer looked over at him, it was obvious that he had noticed him before that moment but he manufactured a surprised look. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

Hawke let out a small uncomfortable chuckle, "I didn't expect to be back so soon."

"Is something wrong?" Anders stepped towards him but stopped when Hawke made no move to get closer. "Last night wasn't-." Hawke cut him off before he could finish that.

"It's not about last night." He smirked, grasping at humor as a lifeline. "Last night was fun; different, but fun." They would still have to deal with that for real, but for the moment he was deflecting.

"I'm glad to hear it was fun," Anders said, leaning back against his patient's podium and letting the actual question linger in the air, unspoken.

Hawke let it hang there as he rolled the words around in his mind, tried to test them before he said them -a feat he rarely performed. "I woke up this morning, obviously," maker, he sounded nervous, like a child. "I...the lyrium," he blurted, "I needed it. I need it." The words were clear and finite, something they had previously lacked.

Anders blinked tawny eyes at him, a deep crease developing between them. "Your...problem?"

"Sure, you could call it that," Hawke said bluntly though he crossed his arms defensively across his chest. Even now he could feel the draw, his fingers itched for the flask that wasn't at his hip and his throat felt tight with need. It struck him that the feeling was very similar to lust, the same desperation pulled at him, his skin tingled and he could see how that might be confused with a want for touch. It brought Fenris to mind, the question that plagued him: had he loved Fenris or was it the lyrium?

He had to stop thinking about Fenris. Fenris had left and seemed to have no intention of coming back, Anders was here now acting like he gave a damn. He looked up, Anders had been talking but he hadn't heard any of it. The other mage stared at him, obviously waiting for a response. Blonde hair fanned slightly from the his slicked ponytail, an after effect of the spell he had been using, there was a slight flush to his cheeks that brought out a tiny white scar above his eye.

He looked good, Hawke considered just how similar his addiction was to lust and wondered: if the two were so alike, could he channel one into the other?

"-you okay?" Hawke just caught the end of that sentence and felt a pull at the corner of his mouth as it quirked into a wry smile.

"Oh, I think I will be," he said and lifted a hand to send a small blast of magic behind him and he doors to the clinic closed with a dull thud. He stepped forward quickly with purpose and grasped the nape of Anders' neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. He knew he ached for something, maybe this would be as good.

Anders gasped against his lips, just allowing Hawke access, which he took, perhaps with more force than necessary. His lover made a noise beneath him. It sounded like surprise and acceptance rolled into one and Hawke felt a hand curl in the weight of his robes, dragging him closer. There was no denying the heat between them, it sparked as soon as skin met skin and blazed like a fire.

It did feel fantastic, there was something not satiated by just the touch but the longer they kissed the less he could feel the lyrium clawing at his brain and the less he cared. Hawke pressed Anders back against the podium with his hips, his hands dropping to fumble with the clasps holding Anders' robe together. Hawke broke the kiss, damning Anders' overly complicated clothing, and drew away to look at what he was doing.

Anders chose not to give him a chance. He refused to allow Hawke to move back, holding him tightly and simply diverting his attention to the base of Hawke's neck. Hawke groaned, shifting his hips against Anders rather pointedly. He continued to fumble with the belts, eventually managing to get them undone enough that he tugged at the outer robe, yanking it from his lover's shoulders as soon as able.

Before he dropped the coat he heard something fall to the ground, in his position he would have ignored it had it not sounded like glass breaking, from a mage's robe that could be dangerous. Hawke glanced down, trying to get a look at whatever it was. At first it simply looked like a flask but he did a double take. In a mess of blue liquid swam shards of shattered glass and a very familiar engraved metal top, the impression was of an 'H' sprouting hawk's wings.

It was his flask. The one that had been missing, that had sent him spiraling into questioning his beliefs. Hawke pushed back from Anders abruptly, though only got so far as Anders' fingers were still caught up in his clothing. Hawke's ex-warden stared at him in surprise until he looked to what had made the sound. When he saw it his eyes hardened and Hawke saw guilt for only a moment and his grip loosened.

"You took it," Hawke moved back from him, anger had abated his wanton desire. "You did this to me."

"I did it for you! You know there's a problem, you just admitted it to me. That's the biggest step you've taken since the elf left." Anders' voice shone earnestly but even Hawke had come to recognize that his 'good' intentions could be so very self-serving and the mention of Fenris was absolutely the wrong move.

Rage brought heat to Hawke's flesh but he felt his eyes grow cold. Small spots of red light glanced from his skin, showering like sparks around him. He couldn't believe what Anders had done, the offense was little in the grand scheme of things but it felt like betrayal and he had felt betrayal one too many times before. "What did you hope to achieve? Was this really your best plan?" Hawke knew he was overreacting, knew that his temper was getting the best of him but he felt it like a current, sweeping him along with little choice.

"I just wanted you to get help, that's all," Anders was still trying to pacify him, he stood straighter and his face almost leaned towards pleading.

"Well, for future reference, I can find help on my own." Electricity crackled from his fingertips and Hawke knew he had to leave, it was a very rare day that he lose control like this and he dare not start a fight with Anders, Justice might end up the one at the helm. Hawke turned in a calculated manner, energy pulsed outward from him and the door swung open without him even laying a finger on it.


End file.
